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‘Oh, you should see her studio. It’s chaos, but in a good way. She has all these mannequins and materials everywhere. I reckon she must sleep on the French daybed . . . although that can’t be very comfortable.’
‘No . . .’ Josh turns up the radio a smidge.
‘Still, there is something quite freeing about living that way.’
‘Ha. You would hate to live like that.’
‘I know, I would, but it’s great to see a woman doing exactly what she wants, even if that’s living above a coffee shop, making dresses and drinking red wine like water . . .’
Someone is running up to the goal, and the commentators are going apeshit. Josh is on the edge of his car seat, looking like he’s about to sneeze. Whoever it is, scores.
‘YEEEESS!’ he screams.
We turn right at the sign for The Chipping Barn and drive up the familiar hill. The barn appears in the windscreen and grows and grows.
We spent the first few months of the engagement looking for anything but a barn (everyone was getting married in them at the time).
We began in London, looking at quirky places like old breweries and rickety pubs, but then we got annoyed at the cost, so we went against London altogether.
We would drive past The Chipping Barn to his family's house and ignore it purely because it was a barn – plus it was way out of our budget. On the way back from one of Linda’s Sunday lunches, we decided to have a peep at it for fun and then accidentally fell in love with it.
As a result, we ended up pushing the wedding back a year to save, but the savings didn’t go quite as I expected (the landlord raised the rent, and Josh bought a new car), so we pushed it back again.
Emily, the owner of The Chipping Barn, is waiting for us in the car park with her hands behind her back and a huge grin on her face.
We met Emily the first time we visited, and she hasn’t changed a bit.
She’s still head to toe in tweed and has the enthusiasm of someone who works at Disneyland.
Nobody loves their job more than Emily Prize.
She greets me and Josh by calling us ‘lovebirds’ and begins another tour of the place.
The first stop is the little brick chapel.
It’s the kind of place you imagine fairy-tale creatures would hang out.
It’s surrounded by trees and has a dusty path leading to its creaky wooden door.
The inside glows orange from a stained-glass sunrise, and there are rows of wooden chairs for the family and friends.
I saw one wedding on Instagram where the couple had filled the space with candles.
I thought this was slightly overkill – it’s a wedding, not a sacrifice to the gods.
We will keep it simple with flowers, a few candles and perhaps some loose petals sprinkled on the aisle.
‘Isn’t it amazing?’ Emily is standing at the altar with a toothpaste commercial grin on her face. ‘Do you guys have any questions so far?’
‘How many chairs are in here?’ I ask.
‘Sixty-two,’ Emily says without a beat. ‘Same as last time.’
I count them just to make sure. ‘Yup, sixty-two,’ I say, and Emily smiles again. Josh starts playing random keys on the piano.
‘You can hire our pianist if you like. He’s amazing,’ Emily says.
‘Thanks, but we have our music. Ed Sheeran. Can’t go wrong,’ I say.
We spent an evening in the first month of our engagement going through wedding playlists on Spotify.
We decided that I was going to come down the aisle to an instrumental version of ‘A Thousand Years’ (Josh doesn’t know that it was on the Twilight soundtrack).
And then we’ll leave together to Ed Sheeran’s ‘Perfect’. Predictable, but it will do.
‘As the band manager of the wedding, I reckon we should get a pianist,’ Josh says in a low voice.
‘It would be better spent on the house deposit, don’t you think?’ I say. Josh shrugs, leaves the piano, and fiddles with the lights instead.
‘Would you two like to practise walking up the aisle, perhaps?’ Emily suggests, eyeballing the lights as they go dim and bright over and over again.
‘No. It’s fine, we’ll figure it out closer to the time. Right, Josh?’ I say.
Josh turns the lights off completely. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Alrighty then. Shall we move to the barn, lovebirds?’ Emily says, still holding her grin. Josh and I shrug and nod at her. ‘Amazing.’
One of the best things about the venue is that it’s on top of a hill, so all you see are fields and fields. When we visited it the first time, it was a blue-sky day in June, and all those fields were bright green and golden.
Now the fields are mud.
‘Looks like you have company,’ Emily says.
Next to the barn doors is a familiar-shaped woman in a bright floral coat.
‘Josh, why is your mum here?’
He slaps his head. ‘Ah, I completely forgot I mentioned it to her. Poor Mum, standing out in the cold. Why didn’t she phone me?’ He calls out, ‘Mum,’ and runs ahead. Oh, fantastic.
The four of us go into the barn together.
‘Isn’t it just amazing,’ Emily says. Linda whimpers into a tissue.
Emily starts on what to expect on the day. She tells us how the food will be served, where the dance floor will be, and where she suggests we put the cake.
‘Yes, I agree. The cake should be there,’ Linda says. ‘What flavour are you two having? Have you decided?’
‘A vanilla sponge, three tiers,’ I say.
‘Shame. Dad loves carrot cake. And it will go with your orange theme.’
‘The theme is rustic,’ I correct her gently.
‘Bagsy this seat,’ Josh shouts and sits at the top table.
‘Amy, go sit with him, and I’ll take your photo,’ Linda says.
I laugh it off. ‘There is plenty of time for photos on the day.’
‘Go on.’ She insists. Josh taps the seat next to him.
I go over and sit down. Emily and Linda make an ‘Aww’ sound.
‘Put your arm around your bride, Joshy.’ Josh does as he’s told, popping his arm across my shoulder and letting it rest there.
It feels awkward. ‘Amy, smile. Oh, Gramps will love this.’ Gramps won’t even know who we are, I want to say.
Linda takes a million photos of us. Emily stands next to her with her hand on her heart.
‘Okay, done. You’re free.’ Josh and I get up.
‘I was thinking about your colour theme, orange,’ Linda says.
‘Rustic.’
‘Perhaps a little gold would make it a little fancier? Less low-key?’
‘It’s meant to be low-key,’ I say.
‘I feel a touch of gold would be nice.’ Linda persists. ‘Just a splash.’ I need Josh for support, but he’s too busy doing pull-ups on a beam.
‘We’ll think about it,’ I say.
‘Oh, but please, don’t take any notice of me. It’s your day. I’m just the finance department.’ Linda chuckles.
‘Are we happy?’ Emily asks.
‘Yep,’ Josh says, dropping dramatically to the floor from the beam.
Emily claps. ‘Amazing. The last thing is to decide the catering for the day. So, if you follow me . . .’ Linda and Emily leave together. I stand in the middle of the barn.
‘Are you coming, Ames?’ Josh asks. ‘Amy?’
‘Doesn’t it seem bigger?’ I say, gazing up at the high beams.
‘Maybe a little bigger,’ Josh adds as he gazes up with me. We stare in silence as if we are inspecting the night sky. The door opens, and Linda pokes her head in and hurries us up.
‘Come on, guys. Emily is waiting.’
Josh and Amy’s Wedding 2025
To Do:
Email final numbers to The Chipping Barn.
Find out all dietary requirements from guests.
Go to Lace’s first fitting of the wedding dress.
Send band suggestions to Josh.
Taste wedding cakes at Clapcake.
Remove phones from the bedroom.
Make Josh feel like the man.
Buy sexy lingerie.